Innocent Until Proven Guilty
by starfire341
Summary: When America finds himself alone and hurt you expect England and his friends to be there for him. But now they're not. And now, he's about to pay the price. Rating may go up. No pairings... yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, guys I'm going out on a limb and writing this I hope this works. I'll still be doing updates for Can't Smile but those will probably be weekly or bi-weekly updates. **

**I'm very excited about this! It's based on an amazing Star Trek: 2009 fanfic called "Guilty Until Proven Innocent". It's amazing! I highly recommended it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. It belongs to its respective owner whose name I don't know how to spell. :)**

Chapter 1

It wouldn't come off.

No matter how hard America scrubbed he couldn't feel clean. He couldn't wash off the pain, the touches.

He was unclean.

He stepped out of the shower still feeling dirty and reluctantly dried himself. He had left most of his things at England's room after being kicked out. He wasn't allowed back. Ever.

He wasn't even given the chance to explain. England's face said everything. The disgust, disappointment, sadness.

_"Leave."_

_"Arthur, please-"_

_"Leave, America"_

The cold in his green eyes were hard and distant lacking all the love that he'd seen before. There was nothing there.

He put on a stiff suit, he would have never worn before and his bomber jacket, one of the few things he'd been able to grab from his room.

'Meeting America,' he thought to himself, 'There's a world meeting and it about to start soon.'

So he reluctantly forced himself out of the bathroom. He looked out longingly at his bed. He wanted nothing more but curl up there and die. Everyone would know by now.

He entered the meeting room and gravitated to his normal seat. Others were looking at him and whispering.

_"Cheated on England."_

_"Man whore."_

_"… caught in someone's room…."_

He bit his lip and decided to not think about it. He looked at seating arrangements. England and France, who normally sat next to him, were moved to the opposite side of the table. The only other person who was going to sit with was Canada who was still in his home country dealing with personal matters.

He fidgeted with his hands and looked down at his papers. He was used to dealing with attention. It was kind of expected being a world superpower and everything, but the attention and hatred towards him had never been this strong before.

"Attention!" Germany yelled over the unusually quiet murmur of chatter. "We have a meeting to begin. Would you all take your seats?"

Nations dispersed to their normal seat most shooting him distrustful looks and wary glances.

France and China were out right glaring at him. He could feel the heat of the hard stares and fought back the urge to shudder at the sight of them.

Russia and Japan completely ignored him, not even bothering to acknowledge him as if he were invisible. Kind of how Canada was sometimes.

Reactions from other nations varied from dangerous glares (Hungary, Prussia, Austria, and a few others) to completely ignoring (Majority of the others). There was only Italy and Lichtenstein who appeared to be uncomfortable.

Germany took the liberty of beginning the meeting. He motioned to Switzerland to begin his presentation on the world's current banking structure.

The Swiss man straightened his tie and went to stand at the podium. He then began his presentation.

Alfred fidgeted in his seat. He could feel Vash's hard, colder than usual stare. It seemed to be asking all the unsaid and unheard questions.

_How could you?_

_He loved you?_

_Did you even love him?_

He knew that the others had given up on even paying attention to the meeting were focusing on him. Everyone except England who seemed set on never laying eyes on him again.

And that in itself killed him.

The silent hatred his lover gave was enough to say what he really wanted.

_I hate you and I never want to see or speak with you again. Alfred, I thought you loved me?_

He did.

He loved England more than he loved anyone before. His love was different than his first love, Amelia. She had been hard to tame, a free spirit that even he couldn't tame. And besides, she found love elsewhere.

Loving England had been like sailing. Some days the sailing was smooth with sunny skies and not a cloud in sight. Other days it like sailing through a storm. The waves would hit the ship and splash over deck. You might be blown off course and lost. Or if you were lucky you would brave the storm and be able to stay on the path.

It hadn't been easy loving England but that's why he loved it.

But now it gone and no one clearly wanted him here. So he would do them all a favor.

America got out of his chair and began to leave ignoring Germany and others' protests.

"America, the meeting isn't over yet."

"Sit down burger bastard."

"You can't just leave aru."

Without looking back, America pasted England and marched out the door into the hallway. And once he was out everyone's peripheral vision he broke out into a sprint.

* * *

><p>Canada was late.<p>

Of course, he had told Germany about this but figured that German would forget about him. At this point it wasn't a big deal. It's not like anyone actually remembered him during meetings much less ask for his opinions.

He had to delay his arrival to London because of some internal that his boss needed him to handle.

America had offered to speak on his behalf which he declined. And even if said yes, Alfred would just forget.

Matthew rushed through the hotel room looking for the security room. He had papers to drop off and it was imperative that they were dropped as soon as possible.

1a, 1b, 1c, 1d, security.

He cracked opened the door and cautiously stepped in. The room was empty and the surveillance screens were lit up with video footage.

He slipped the thin stack of papers on a desks and was about to leave when a certain video caught his eyes.

He took a seat at the surveillance station to get a better look at it.

It was Alfred being forced against a wall of an empty meeting room. Another man was pulling off his brother's shirt as he struggled against him emitting disgruntled moans. The man continued to pull down Alfred's pant and forced him to the floor as he began to kiss. Alfred continued struggle as the man's had traveled down and…

Matthew's eyes widened as he saw what happened next.

_"Merede," _he whispered as he rushed to the closest trashcan.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow that was long. <strong>

**I would really love a beta because my current stories are all un-betaed. If anyone's interested PM me.**

**R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Like, I don't own Hetalia but, like I totally wish I did.**

Chapter 2

Canada gripped the trashcan tightly as he threw up his lunch. He could taste the bile in mouth as he thought back to the image of America being forced to the ground as his assaulter kissed and touched him.

He finally got up from his crouching state and wiped his face.

He needed to show to the others, to which he hoped they already knew what had happened.

He grabbed his flash drive from his bag and shoved into the surveillance USB port and downloaded the graphic video.

His mind began to wander to the well being of America. Poor America who had been raped and was now probably in the embrace of England. England, patient, tolerant, and understanding, who loved America, would certainly give him a chance to explain what had happened. And maybe France would help him out and keep England calm. Other countries would probably end up restraining England from murdering the rapist.

Once the download was complete, Matthew yanked the flash drive out of the USB port and gathered his things and prepared to leave. He grabbed his bag and sprinted out of the room.

Because if he knew one thing, it was this

America was in trouble and he was going to save him.

But as he ran he missed an important event unfolding on the screen. America was alone in an empty room and outside the glass door stood an ominous figure. And the American didn't seem to notice a thing.

England, like many other nations, had agreed to meet up later for an informal party of course. Many agreed to come solely on the chance of free food and booze. Others came at the chance of catching a glimpse of the so call Bad Touch Trio's dancing.

He, on the other hand, had his own reason for coming.

He needed something to make him forget America and this party seemed a pretty damn good way to do that.

He watched from a mostly empty table as France, Spain, and Prussia began dirty dancing while others tried to avoid them. Italy had somehow pulled Germany from his seat and was trying to imitate the trio's dancing much to the German's displeasure.

He sighed as Prussia was smacked with a frying pan by Hungary after bumping into her. He took his glass and took a swig.

Alcohol had the uncanny ability to help him forget the most painful memories and make him downright unpleasant. Whenever he got drunk it was usually America who would drag him home and tell him what he'd done in his drunken state the next day.

He shook his head and dismissed the thought. America was out of his life now. He didn't need or want him anymore. He had betrayed his loved. What had happened was America's fault not his.

He took another long swig and then seat the glass down.

Many countries were dancing away the thoughts of America. Not many had genuinely cared when he had walked out of the meeting. The general feeling in the room had been good riddance.

He didn't even look at the American when he had walked out the door yet to be seen again.

He sank deeper into his chair. Sure America was gone but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

* * *

><p>Italy skipped down the hall on the way to the bathroom. He found himself in a surprisingly better mood now that he had something to distract him from the thought of America.<p>

He hadn't really known how to feel about America. All he knew was that whatever America had done had upset Germany and made England sad. He wanted to mad to him but he couldn't find it in him, especially after seeing America being so sad.

Italy was pretty sure he came off as uncomfortable. His eyes were darting back and forth. His knee bounced up and down. And he was pretty sure; he sent a sympathetic look to America.

He pushed aside these thoughts and kept happily skipping to the bathroom.

_It's such a nice evening_, he thought cheerfully. _Germany's in a better mood and Japan's dancing with Taiwan. She's so pretty and really nice. She has a nice smile and makes Japan happy. I wonder if-_

"Oof!" a small voice exclaimed as he was pushed back slightly.

"Ve! Sorry, I didn't see you there!" the Italian apologized still smiling.

The smaller man looked up at him. He had blonde hair much like America's but a bit longer. He wore glasses that brought out his purple eyes. He looked eerily familiar and Italy felt that he should know him.

"I'm sorry. I feel like I've seen you somewhere. Have we met?" he asked the blonde.

"Italy. It's me Canada, America's brother," the man, Canada replied. "Do you know where he is? I need to see him. I think he's in danger."

Canada….. Where had he heard of him before? Germany? No. Japan? No. Prussia? YES!

"Oh right you're Canada! You're Prussia's friend. He told me about you once."

"Italy, where's America?" Canada asked again more forcefully ignoring what the Italian had said.

"I don't know. I haven't seen America since he ran out of the meeting," Italy replied.

"What?" Canada asked, if possible seeming even more alarmed. "What do you mean he _ran out_ of the meeting?"

"He did something to upset England and he seemed really sad today," Italy babbled.

He didn't really take note when Canada's eyes widen and he began rummaging through his bag for his tablet and his flash drive.

"I mean I didn't really know what happened but whatever happened it wasn't very good," Italy kept babbling. He wasn't sure why he was babbling. Maybe it was because he needed someone to talk to and Germany and Japan were out of the question because they didn't share his sentiments. "Io davvero non so cosa pensare. Non volevo essere arrabbiato con lui, ma la Germania e il Giappone erano-"

"Italy, you need to see this," Canada cut him off.

The Canadian handed the Italian his tablet.

Italy watched in horror as America was forced against the wall and then to the floor. A man undressed America, pulling off his shirt and pulling down his pants as he…

"Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace tanto!" Italy exclaimed as he reached a near tears state.

"Italy!" Canada snapped uncharacteristically. "Find England. Find Germany. Find anyone who can help. America's in deep trouble."

He nodded and ran off to find someone, anyone who could help.

* * *

><p>America sat alone in an empty conference room.<p>

He had decided to drink away his problems with whisky and ale. Ah, yes whisky and ale two of his best, and possibly only, friends.

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long sip.

It felt good to drink away his problems. It involved less thinking and feeling two things that right now hurt like hell. If only everything else in life were just a painless as drinking.

He frowned as he looked down at the table.

_How could something so perfect become so wrong, so fast? _

He had been wondering about that for some time now that England was gone. Their whole relationship had been perfect. They loved each other despite their differences and when they fought things were always patched up.

But, was that just an illusion?

Maybe they pretended to love each other because that what they wanted to believe. Besides, sometimes illusions are better than the truth.

But, was the truth?

He sighed and rested his head against the table.

The whisky and ale mix had lost its taste and he had lost interest. Damn, Canada for being right in telling him he couldn't drink away all his problems.

Despite the loss of interest, America took another swig of the whisky and ale mix.

"Ugh," he groaned.

He wasn't just disgusted with the drink but with himself. How could he let himself get caught up in something so fake?

He let his head rest again on the table and closed his eyes. Sleep was his only confidant now. Things that happened in its dark depths would never be seen or heard by anyone.

That pleased him more than anyone could possibly know.

* * *

><p>The man looked in on the empty conference room.<p>

The American representative, Alfred Jones, was asleep with a glass of alcohol and a bottle of whisky and another of ale.

He smiled to himself. Mr. Jones was so much more beautiful in his sleep. He was so much quieter when screaming and struggling.

He could remember touching Mr. Jones as he kissed the struggling American. It was lovely. Mr. Jones, despite his struggling, was a _very_ good kisser.

And this time Mr. Jones was really alone. The other representatives were at a party in the hotel's ballroom and none had bothered to find him.

Now, was time for the fun to begin.

_Translations:_

_Io davvero non so cosa pensare. Non volevo essere arrabbiato con lui, ma la Germania e il Giappone erano - I really do not know what to think. I did not want to be angry with him, but Germany and Japan were-_

_Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace tanto! – I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whew! That's a lot of writing. I had a hard time writing this so let me know what you think.<strong>

**Anyways, Italy's found out what happened. LET THE GUILT TRIP BEGIN! But before that can start, we need to have a little fun with America. Stay tuned to find out more!**

**R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Um… yeah, no :)**

Chapter 3

Italy ran down the corridor with Canada in a near tears state.

_"I hope America is okay. Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, mi dispiace! I should have done something. Oh, God. Perdonami. Dio, mi perdoni," He thought._

"Italy, you can't cry now," Canada said, not unkindly. "America's in trouble. You've got to stay calm, okay?"

Italy nodded in understanding.

"Go get Germany, okay?" Canada said to the Italian.

Italy nodded again. It was a simple job and it was the least he could do for Canada.

He walked into the ballroom and scanned for Germany. It wasn't too hard to find Germany, who was up against the wall looking like he wanted to disappear.

He ran over the German and began yelling.

"Germany! Germany!" He yelled, sounding rather panicked.

Normally, people would have ignored him yelling, but there was something different. England, Japan, France, and other nations looked over. Maybe they heard the panic and alarm in his voice. But whatever they had heard in his voice, they dismissed it.

"What is it, Italy?" Germany asked him, sounding more concerned than usual. Did he hear the panic in his voice, too?

"It's America," He replied, his voice shaky. "He was… He was…"

"Was what?"

"He was… was… Fu violentata! E 'tutta colpa nostra! Tutta colpa nostra!" He cried, and he, despite Canada's request, burst into tears.

He realized that once he began to cry and had started to go off in Italian, the ballroom grew silent. The music died down suddenly and conversations had quieted down.

"Italy, English, please," Germany whispered, his face pale and suddenly more alarmed.

He shook his head.

"Say something, Feliciano," He urged himself.

He opened his mouth, hoping to say something. But no words came, just silence and more tears.

"Italy?" Germany gently asked.

He shook his head again, fighting back tears. He wouldn't cry anymore. Not right now, anyway. Canada had asked him not to and he would try to comply.

So, he ignored the German and yelled for Canada.

XXXoooXXX

Canada came to Italy as soon as he yelled for him. He had been watching them from a distance for a while now, watching as Italy dissolved into tears.

He had expected that to happen whether Italy was trying or not. It wasn't as if he could blame him. He would be in tears, too, if there wasn't something else for him to focus on.

"Yes, Italy," He said.

The Italian just motioned his head towards Germany. He was speechless and with good reason. Other nations had stopped dancing and chatting and began to listen.

"Canada, what is the meaning of this?" Germany demanded.

He grimaced and peered around the room, knowing that everyone else in the room were infatuated by the whole conversation.

"Well, since you're all listening," He raised his voice, "you might as well know that America-"

"I don't want to hear about America," England spat, cutting him off.

"What?" He asked, dumbfounded.

England ignored him and glared at the floor. Other nations seemed to do similar things when America was mentioned. France got a bit closer, in a protective manner, to England. Japan's eyes narrowed in an angry manner.

It was China who chose to speak.

"America was with someone else last night, aru," China said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What do you mean?" Canada asked, quite alarmed.

"_Ameriqué_ was caught last night making love to another," France replied coolly. "And that someone was not _Angleterre_."

When he heard France utter those words, Canada felt an unexpected emotion rise within him. He had expected that the others would be accepting and understanding of America's situation and would try to help. He had hoped they would have understood the danger he was in.

He was mad. Mad at himself for not being there right now with his brother instead of dealing with these idiots. Mad at everyone else for denying and shunning his brother.

"No," He growled.

He resisted the urge to smirk. That caught all of them off guard. All of them probably didn't expect that from the quiet little Canada. They denied his brother. This is what they got.

"What do you mean no?" France asked, sounding a bit uneasy.

"No, he wasn't," Canada elaborated as he thrust his tablet into the Frenchman's hands. "Look for yourself."

Nations then began to surround France, straining for a better view of what was happening on the screen.

France hesitantly tapped the screen and started the video. And when he did, his face paled and his eyes widened in alarm at what he was seeing.

"You forgot the volume," He added innocently.

Other nations turned on him in shock. France looked like he wanted to throw up. China's eyes seemed to ask if what he saw was true. Germany looked disgusted, while Italy began to cry harder.

"You weren't there. You didn't do this," He addressed all of them. "But by denying America, you might as well have."

XXXoooXXX

England was now officially intrigued.

Sure, he had dismissed any thought of America being innocent in this whole manner, but what Canada was saying was ridiculous, that by denying that backstabber, they had done something awful to him.

He got up from his seat to see what all the fuss was about. Most all the other nations had seen it already and most seemed disturbed.

He moved over beside France, who was pale and clutching the tablet, gently eased the tablet out of his hands.

"Let it go, frog," He said halfheartedly as France let go.

He began the video paused only a few seconds into the beginning and watched the terror unfold. America being forced to the wall by a stranger and then to the ground, being undressed and kissed and touched and….

"Oh, my God," He whispered. His grip loosened on the tablet in shock, sending it to the ground, only to be caught by Canada. "He was raped."

The world around him seemed to be muted as he sat himself down in the nearest chair. He couldn't feel the touch of France's comforting hand on his shoulder. He couldn't hear apologizes being mumbled all around him. He couldn't hear the sound of Italy or Hungary or Lichtenstein crying.

All he could hear was Canada's voice sounding more like an echo in his mind.

"He loved you so much. It wasn't him who threw away what you had. It was you."

XXXoooXXX

_America opened his eyes and studied his surroundings._

_"This is a dream," He murmured to himself over and over._

_He was in a large glass tank with no openings. It had a large pipe attached to it. And the pipe itself ran back to a water boiler._

_Outside the box, all the nations of the world stood outside; England, France, Russia, China, Germany, Prussia, Japan, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Turkey, Greece, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Poland, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Belarus, Ukraine, Spain, Romano, Egypt, and so many more._

_The only one missing was Canada._

_"Where's Canada?" He yelled through the glass and pounded on it._

_France leaned over and whispered something to Spain and Prussia, causing the trio to laugh. England, who stood not too far from the trio, laughed along with them._

_"No," He whispered. "England, why?"_

_He wanted to curl up into a ball and ignore what he was seeing. France's laughter. China's sneer. Italy's almost excited eyes. But that was until he began to hear the sound of rushing water._

_He shot up in alarm and began pounding on the glass again._

_"Please! You've got to let me out! Please!" He screamed._

_The water was coming in faster now and was going past his waist. He spread out his arms to keep them dry._

_"Please! Please let me out!" He continued to scream._

_He began to float and that was never a good sign. That meant that he would run out of air and be pushed up to the top glass and die a cliché drowning death._

_He was the hero; he couldn't die like this. He had an awesome reputation to keep up. When he came back to life, Prussia would never live it down._

_'What if I don't come back?' He thought, the idea rising in his mind along with the water in the tank._

_His face up against the glass now and he was sure now, it was too late._

_He took a gasp of breath and forced himself back down. All the air in the tank was gone now. The only remaining was the air he held in his lungs which were screaming for air._

_He began to pound on the glass again, hoping to break it. He could feel the glass vibrating every time he hit it. But it never broke._

_All it did was take up his energy, his air._

_His eyes began to close as his vision became darker._

_'Let go,' He thought to himself._

_And he did. He closed his eyes and let the darkness and cold water embrace him. Maybe not all heroes are heroes in the eyes of others._

XXXoooXXX

"Poor Mr. Jones," The man murmured. "Poor, poor, Alfred. Having a bad dream, are you?"

He stroked Alfred's head. He was instantly thankful that he had found a way to enter the room without alerting the sleeping American or the United Nations' security.

He gazed down lovingly at Alfred. The blonde stirred in his sleep. His face wasn't peacefully, like he had hoped, but that could be easily fixed, especially after a fantastic night with him.

"Oh, Alfred, no need to worry," He said as he sat on the table and positioned himself beside Alfred's head.

Alfred made a soft noise in his sleep and turned his head slightly.

"Everything's going to be just fine."

XXXoooXXX

_Translations:_

_Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, mi dispiace.- My fault, my fault, my fault._

_Perdonami. Dio, mi perdoni.- Forgive me. God, forgive me._

_Fu violentata! E 'tutta colpa nostra! Tutta colpa nostra!- was raped! It's all our fault! All our fault_!

**AN: Okay, since my author's notes are kind of annoying, I've decided to move it to the bottom of the page.**

**Anyways, big news! I've got a beta, who I've got to give a big shout out to Midnight Alexis Thorn! She's amazing so don't be afraid to check out her profile!**

**School's starting up again so updates will be delay by a little(or a lot). But reviews really do encourage me to work more on the story.**

**And, finally a big shout out to everyone who review, favorited, and followed this story.**

**R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I can't draw anime or manga and I don't know Japanese. Do you think I own Hetalia?**

Chapter 4

Canada was back at the Swiss United Nations building searching room after room for America. He had alerted the authorities about America's predicament and they had traced it to Balderik Gamma, a man who had a history of sexual assault.

He had coldly commanded other nations to search the building, cutting their party short. The other nations were guilty and somber.

He had been disgusted when he had discovered that the others had made assumptions about America and had done nothing. That had pretty much washed out his good opinion of everyone.

In hopes of covering more ground, they had spilt into groups. Germany had unwittingly recruited Italy and Japan. The Baltics quickly formed a group in hopes of avoiding Russia. Hungary and Austria reluctantly entered in a group with Prussia. China, unfortunately, was stuck in a group with Russia and South Korea, who was unfazed about the zealous Russian.

He had been stuck in a group with England and France. He would have preferred working alone. England and France, still in guilt stupors, would just slow him down. Besides, he doubted that if he found America that the American would be too happy to see them.

Luckily, he had sent England and France to explore other rooms. It gave him time to think to himself.

He had texted and called America multiple times to no avail. He had decided to try again and was now pacing back and forth anxiously in the conference room.

"Pick up, America," He whispered as he listened to the sound of the phone ringing. "Please."

The phone kept ringing as he continued to pace. However, he was again met with the familiar sound of the voice tone.

"Hey, Alfred here! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. I'm probably too busy dealing with crap from Iggy."

In the background, he could hear England's sound of protest and France's laughter followed by a number insults and sounds of a fight.

"He claims he's not annoying. Anyways, leave your name and I'll call you back as soon as I can! Bye!"

"Hey, Alfred, it's me Matthew," He said. "I was just calling to see if you're okay. So… um, please call me back. Okay. I'm just really worried for you right now."

He hung up the phone and let out a frustrated scream.

He had never had issues reaching America. If anything, he had trouble getting America to stop calling him. As his brother, America felt like he had an obligation to keep an eye up on him twenty-four seven, something he found both endearing and annoying.

He pocketed his phone and decided to leave the room. It was useless. There was no sign of America here.

Out in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and sighed.

He had no idea where his younger brother was.

_"__Come on, Mattie," Alfred's voice spoke to him. "You're my big bro! Shouldn't you have some sort of brotherly super powers of something?"_

He could almost see America poking his ribs teasingly, trying to get him to laugh.

"_Mon Dieu, l'Amérique. Où êtes-vous_?" He wondered aloud.

He let his hand reach into his pocket and toy with his phone. It was an odd habit he had gained over the years. It was a good stress reliever. It was a terrible practice, but it was a way to calm down.

XXXoooXXX

_America opened his eyes and blinked, his eyes adjusting to the harsh light shining in his face._

_He was dry and there was no trace of him ever being in a water tank. He was instead wearing an entirely white suit and sitting in a chair._

_He got up and surveyed the room. It was dark, save the solitary light shining on him. And from what he could tell, he was alone._

_"__Hello?" He whispered hesitantly._

_An unadulterated sense of fear rose within him. He was alone, oh so alone. First, he was overwhelmed by the sight of so many nations, so many so called friends. Now, there was not enough people, there no one._

_Then from out of nowhere, England appeared. He was dressed in formal tails and a top hat, looking dashing and handsome. He flashed a smile at America, his green eyes gleaming with mirth._

_"__Hello, love," England said to him. "I'm sorry."_

_"__What do you mean, Iggy?" He asked, his brows furrowing._

_"__I'm sorry," The Briton said again simply._

_England revealed a knife from his pocket. His eyes met America's and sent an apologetic smile his way before he took the knife to his stomach. Blood blossomed around the wound, staining his dark blazer. He still had his sad smile as his face began to pale._

_"__No!" America screamed. "England!"_

_Tears began to pour from his eyes and he began to gasp for air. He lurched forward as England did as if he could feel the knife being shoved into England's stomach._

_"__It's okay, 'Merica," England murmured as he crumpled to the ground._

_America wanted nothing more than to run to the Brit and hold him. But, he couldn't move. It was as if his feet were glued to floor._

_He watched as England's chest rose up and down in a frantic struggle for breath. The Briton's breaths were becoming shallow and labored._

_Not being able to move to England, America curled up into a ball on the floor, hugging his knees. It was his fault, all his fault. God, if only…_

_"__I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry," He repeated over and over again as the words began to blend together into a blur of senseless gibberish._

_He let the anguish and sorrow wash over him and bring him into oblivion._

XXXoooXXX

England had kicked France out of the room he was searching to have some privacy.

He slammed the door shut and kicked the wall in frustration. How could he have been so daft? Why did he jump to conclusions? Why did he throw away the one thing he cared about most?

"Why?" He asked himself.

He had been an idiot and Canada had been right to scorn him.

_'__Where could America be?' He wondered to himself._

He had called and texted America multiple times to no avail. He had expected to be ignored by America, it wasn't unexpected. He knew that what he had done was unforgivable.

A pounding came from the conference door. He didn't want to answer and honestly he didn't give a crap about who was at the door.

"What?" He yelled irritably.

"_Angleterre_, Canada has some news for us," A voice said.

France, that bloody frog.

He reluctantly opened the door, revealing the Frenchman. France appeared disheveled and fatigued, with shadows underneath his eyes and his normally well-kept hair frizzy and out of sorts.

"Yes, France," He said, sounding rather tired. "What does Canada want?"

"Mathieu wants us all in Conference Room A. Apparently, he has some new information that could help us find _Amérique_."

_'__No way in hell I'm coming. Not when I could be looking for America.'_

England nodded, "Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He had expected France to walk off to the conference room. Instead, the Frenchman leaned against the doorframe, standing there expectantly.

"What?" England asked, a brow arched in surprise.

"I know what you are thinking, _mon ami_," France stated grimly. "I know what you're planning to do and it's ridiculous. You have to go this gathering."

"I'm not going," he reiterated. "I'm sorry if I didn't get that point across the first time."

He tried to get past France, but was blocked each time. The Frenchman merely smirked at his attempt of escape.

So, France grabbed his arm and smiled.

"You're going to that meeting."

England scowled.

"Damn you."

And so he let himself be dragged off to the meeting, unsure of what was up next for him.

XXoooXX

**God, that sucked. But in my defense I'm trying my best to keep my grades up so please don't hate me too much. I hate myself right now. Any who, I hope you like this chapter despite its size and quality. I also think Iggy's too OOC. I had so much trouble writing him! Anyways ignore that! :)**

**Thanks!**

**R&R**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I, an honorable fanfiction writer, do not own Hetalia.**

Chapter 5

Canada stood at the head of the long conference table, resisting the urge to pace back and forth.

He had received some disturbing news from a guilty Poland and Lithuania. They had shuffled in, Lithuania tugging at his sleeves and Poland twirling a lock of his hair with his finger. Each seemed to be nudging the other forward to break the news.

He felt an unusual desire to smack the pair. Sure it was the middle of a crisis, but they were too perfect together not to notice.

Nations filed in at a steady rate. Germany and an overly clingy Italy entered followed by Japan and a rather subdued Taiwan. The last pair to enter the meeting was a rather flustered England and France.

And the strange thing was that instead of talking and chattering, they took their seats and sat silently. They all seemed to hold their breath… and turned to him.

"Thank you for coming," he said addressing his fellow nations. "I have received some news from Poland and Lithuania that all of you need to hear."

He motioned to the pair to share their information. The two stood up, awkwardly. Both seemed to want the other to speak. Until eventually, Lithuania began to splutter nervously.

"Um…well w-we found out that America's assaulter has taken a strange interest in America," the Lithuanian stammered. "Balderik Gamma's internet history suggests that he is very close to finding the truth about America."

"So, like, we found that Gamma's still here on the Swiss UN complex. And he's, like, still at large. But Liet and I have totally narrowed his location down. Liet, like, narrowed it down to the northeast side of the complex," Poland said nonchalantly, looking down at his fingernails.

The Pole's nonchalant statement caused a small flurry of chatter among the nations. England and France exchanged looks. Italy was looking like he was going to cry again. And Japan fidgeted in his seat.

"Now that we've narrowed down his location, I can get a clear lock on his location," Estonia piped up from behind his laptop. He was already typing away.

Canada watched intently as the Estonian typed away. He had asked him at the beginning of all this to track his brother down via cellphone. But Eduard told him that he needed a more exact location in order to find the signal.

"Found him," Estonia exclaimed, a small smile on his face. "I can tap into security cameras there and get a real time look at him…"

As he said the smile slid off the tech's face.

"What is it?" Canada demanded as he made his way from the front of the table to Estonia's side of the table.

Estonia sat there, staring at screen. He shook the Estonian, earning no response save for a small shake of the head.

"We're too late," Eduard whispered.

XXXoooXXX

America groaned in the darkness of the empty room.

_'God, how long was I in here?' he wondered to himself._

He peered around his surroundings. There were several empty bottles of whiskey and ale around him. The lights were all off and the windows were open.

He groaned again and hit his head lightly against the desk. His head was pounding, like a separate heart pumping the same words over and over again.

"Mr. Jones," a voice said as a hand was placed on his hip and another over his mouth. "I'm here to finish where we started."

Alfred let out a muffled scream and began to trash about. He was knocked out his chair but the hands of his attacker never seemed to leave his body.

He was on the floor now, his back to ground. He could feel the weight of his assailant on him and smell the sweat and alcohol mixing with his own scent.

The attacker towered over him sitting on his hips. He bent down and kissed Alfred.

Alfred scrambled about desperately trying to separate himself from the stranger. He'd never get England's forgiveness, not now. If anything, England probably hated him more now.

The man pulled back from the kiss. And although, Alfred couldn't see his face in the dark he swore he smiled.

"Your _mine_," the man hissed. "Your mine and always will be. If your friends cared they would be looking for you. Your so-called lover abandoned you. Your brother isn't even in the country."

The man had loosened his grip on Alfred's hips, just enough to let him slide away. He pulled himself up against a nearby wall, seating and panting.

"How do you know?" he asked harshly.

"I know yourself better than you do," the man replied cryptically. "I know things people would only dream of knowing."

Alfred shook his head frantically.

"No, you're insane," he said backing up against the wall even more. "You're a **madman**."

"Am I really?" the man asked, a brow raised.

America's breath hitched in panic. Was he really insane? Or was he only trying to help him?

"No."

XXXoooXXX

England ran out of the meeting room as soon as Estonia had found the location.

Others had been trapped in a shocked stupor, as if it were a dream. But, he had been woken up. It was suddenly clear now. He could gain his forgiveness.

He turned around a sharp corner surprising an unsuspecting woman.

"Hey!" she shouted at him as her papers were knocked out of her hands and sent in a chaotic flurry.

He ignored her indignant cries and kept running.

It's not like he heard her in first place. All he could hear was Alfred voice calling to him laughing, yelling, or simply talking.

_'Two lefts, a right, then another left," he told himself. "Come on you're almost there!"_

In the farther end of the hallway, he could almost hear France speaking to the poor woman he nearly trampled.

"_Ah, mademoiselle laissez -moi vous aider. _Let me apologize for my friend. He's mind's miles away. He's quite stressed," France said and England could hear the sound of kiss, probably to the hand. "_Vous, cependant une belle jeune femme comme vous, ne devriez pas être ici seul._"

It made England sick that France could be so flirtatious at a time like this. But then again, France being openly flirty was his way of coping. He knew that by now.

But, he didn't have time for France.

He was going to find America. And when he found America, he was going to make that bastard who harmed him regret the day he was born.

XXXoooXXX

**AN: I'm so sorry! This chapter is unedited and unbetaed! I'm sorry for being gone so long! I've gotten caught in this terrible thing called "reality" and in this stressful thing called "school". Anyways, enough of that and back to notes! **

**I know the ending's cheesy but I didn't know how else to wrap it up. But on the bright side after the next chapter or two the guilt trip will begin and I have some plans for Alfred and Arthur's relationship. *grins evilly***

**Also, the lack of reviews for the last chapter was kind of discouraging. So if you could please review that would be great. If you don't mind that is.**

**Anyways, thanks!**

**R&R!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia really wish I did.**

Chapter 6

Canada raced down the corridor with France on his tail, searching for a frantic England.

He had dragged Franc away from flirting with a woman, much to the Frenchman's displeasure. But he was the only one who knew how to reason with the Briton, not that he'd say it aloud and inflate France's ego.

"France, are we there?" he shouted to the man behind him.

"_Oui, Angleterre_ should be somewhere around here," France replied inspecting the empty meeting room they discovered.

Canada examined the empty room. There were bottles of whiskey and ale on the table and a chair was on the ground. And what he found most disturbing was that there was no sign of Alfred, England, or Balderik.

"I don't think they're here anymore," Canada whispered, almost inaudibly.

He could feel his breath hitch and France's eyes land on him. They were gone. There was no way to save Alfred now, dear Alfie.

"Canada," France said shaking him slightly. "_Mathieu, obtenir une prise de vous-même. _There's something in the next room."

He nodded as France left his side and moved toward a nearby door.

There the sound of muffled yells and banging against the wall chilled his bones. Could that be Alfred? Could that be England being the hero?

He turned and faced France. The Frenchman's hand was hovering over the doorknob. His face was sheet white and his eyes were wide in apprehension.

"_Ouvrez-le. Simplement fais-le,"_ he said to France, his eyes trained on the doorknob.

France's hand turned the knob slowly causing Canada's heartbeat to speed up. His breath seemed to follow in suit speeding as well, making it seem as if he were hyperventilating.

Slowly France opened the door and moved inside.

Too scared to move, Canada stayed put letting France look first. He didn't want to see America on the ground scared, alone.

"France!" he called. "What happened? France!"

There was no response.

Unable to wait for a response, he rushed into the room. And, the sight he saw terrified him.

XXXoooXXX

"_Angleterre!_" he heard France in the back of his mind. "Enough! You've won! He's down!"

He could feel his body shaking as he pinned Balderik against the wall. This man was a monster. He deserved to die.

"No! It's not enough!" he shouted as tear began to fill his eyes. "You don't know what this man has done!"

"_Non, _you're wrong," imaginary France said to him. "I know exactly what he did. But look at _Amérique_."

He turned his down to face the American. He was unconscious, blonde hair sweeping over his closed eyes. The dim light seemed to frame the bruises on his face.

"This won't help him," imaginary France continued to say.

He shook his head in denial. He moved his hands away from the wall, letting Balderik fall to the ground. He covered eyes with his hands, feeling the salty liquid hit his hands.

He could feel the hands of France rubbing his shoulders back and forth in a comforting manner. France murmured words in French to him.

"_Mathieu_, "the Frenchman whispered to the figure standing silently beside him. "Get help. Call the paramedics"

He couldn't tell if Canada had left or not but it didn't matter.

"It's over now," France whispered to him. "It's over now."

XXXoooXXX

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

America awoke to the constant sound of a heart monitor. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright white lights of the room.

"Where am I?" he asked. He figured with how drugged up he was it came out as an incoherent jumble of words.

He turned his head to the side, revealing a young nurse tampering with the IV

She turned around in alarm, her eyes widening a fraction.

"I'm sorry, for waking you," she said stepping away from the IV. "But to answer your question, you're at the University Hospital of Geneva. I'm your nurse, Charlotte Ammon."

"Thanks, Charlie," he mumbled. "Why do I feel like crap?"

She laughed as she picked up a clipboard from a nearby table. Her chocolate brown hair fell across her face as she threw her head back slightly.

"You have two broken ribs and a broken wrist," she stated in a matter of fact tone. "You a slight concussion and you left leg is sprained."

Ouch, no wonder he hurt so much.

"That explains a lot," he groaned as he squeezed his eyes.

Charlotte smiled and shook her head.

"It must help to know that you have such caring family and friends," she remarked. "They want to see you when you're ready."

They wanted to see him? After casting him aside, they wanted to see him? How **thick** were they? Did they know what happened?

"I don't want to see them."

"Are you-"

"I really don't want to see them," he sighed. "But if a man called Mathew Williams is there. I want to see him. Please."

Charlotte pursed her lips. She seemed like she wanted to say something but shook her head against it.

"Of course," she whispered. "I'll get on that."

XXXoooXXX

**AN: Double update! I'm on a roll! **

**So the guilt trip begins! I'm so excited to start this path to forgiveness for both Alfred and Arthur and everyone else. I'm sorry about it so short but an update's and update.**

**Also, I just wanted to say that my thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the Denmark attacks. No one should have to go through an ordeal like that.**

**Anyways, thanks and don't forget to review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine :)**

Chapter 7

"I'm _sorry _sirs," the ginger haired nurse said again her attitude turning more and more hostile with each argument England and the others put up. "He made it _clear _that he only wants to see Mr. Williams. Now if you could please _leave-"_

"No, you don't understand, miss," England insisted, interrupting her mid-speech. "I _need_ to see him! Please! We all do there's something we need to say!"

England gestured to Canada, France, Japan, and many other nations with him in the hospital waiting room.

The nurse closed her eyes and took a deep breath. And when she opened her eyes, she gave an unnervingly calm smile.

"Sir," she said calmly, "I'm sorry but you and the rest of your friends will have to come back later if you want to see Mr. Jones. He wished to speak to Mathew Williams, no one else." She grabbed Canada by the arm and pulled him to stand next to her. "Now if you excuse me."

She made way to leave with Mathew in toe. The said Canadian cast an apologetic glance at the group behind him

_'Did America hurt so much that he really doesn't want to see me?' he thought incredulously to himself._

He watched as Mathew pulled the young nurse aside and spoke softly to her. Mathew occasionally gestured back at them from time to time.

"What do you think he's saying?" Italy whimpered to no one in particular.

No one responded to the Italians question and England made an effort not to face him.

Mathew nodded to the nurse and she stayed back as he made his way back to him.

"She said I can take a message," Mathew said his eyes listless.

"What?" England asked, somewhat surprised at the Canadian's statement.

"I can take a message," the Canadian repeated. "I couldn't get her to let you come but I can take a message to Alfred. So, whatever you want to say just say it and I'll deliver it."

England chewed on the inside of his cheek. What did he want to say? I love you? Are you okay? The bastard that did this to is behind bars?

"Just tell him," he began. "I'm sorry and I still love him. I would do anything to take back what I did. Just please forgive me."

Canada nodded sympathetically. His violet eyes were still flat and lacked its usual life but were still full of tears.

"Of course," Mathew whispered trying his best to smile, tugging at England's heartstrings. Mathew then turned to France. "_Je vous verrai plus tard. Je vais vous donner Alfred votre amour."_

France smiled sadly in reply and said, "_Merci_."

He watched as Mathew returned back to the nurse and the too walked away.

He looked back at the other nations who had taken seats in the waiting room. France was gesturing him to take a seat.

He absentmindedly took a seat, his mind miles away. He only hoped and _prayed _that America would forgive him.

XXXoooXXX

Mathew walked in awkward silence with the nurse. He felt kind of odd leaving to see his brother without anyone else. He had at least expected to have France and England with him.

He was never really fond of hospitals. They were so clean and so plain. You never saw a colorful hospital. Hospitals were always clean, bright, and unfeeling.

His attention turned to the fiery nurse. He watched as her ginger ponytail bounced up and down with every step she took. Her ginger hair seemed to compliment her navy blue scrubs. She walked with purpose with a determination with each step.

She stopped abruptly and he nearly ran into her.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "My mind was…wandering."

"You're fine," she said turning to him. "Your brother's right in here."

She opened the door revealing a sleeping America in a hospital gown and all.

"Mr. Jones, Mathew's here," she said softly. "Mr. Jones? Please wake up."

Alfred stirred slightly at her words. He groaned and blinked his sky blue eyes, chasing away the sleep from his mind. His face looked bare without his glasses that were on a table nearby.

"Hey, Charlie," Alfred said groggily a smile lighting his face.

The ginger, Charlie, rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh.

"It's Charlotte," she chided gently. "But that's beside the point. Mr. Williams is here."

America sat up, suddenly more alert. He turned to face him.

Mathew could see his brother more fully now. His left arm was in a white cast almost hidden by his light green hospital gown. His free arm was bruised and with every turn his body took he seemed to wince in pain.

"Alfred," he whispered, immediately taking a seat in the chair beside the hospital bed.

_'Al, what did they do to you?' he wondered._

"It's nothing, Mattie," he brother shrugged. "It's just a scratch.

"A scratch!" he nearly squawked. "Just a scratch? Alfred, after what you've been through. The sexual abuse, the betrayal… and I wasn't there for you."

His brother reached over and took his hand squeezing it tightly.

"You're here now. That's what matters."

XXXoooXXX

Charlotte felt her heart travel to her throat as she made her way back to the waiting room.

When she first began caring for Alfred, she tried not to concern herself on how he got his injuries. She decided to; instead, busy herself with treating his injuries.

But now all those unanswered questions were finally coming to the surface after hearing Mathew and Alfred talk. How did he get those injuries? Why did he always flinch away from a male doctor's touch? Why did he have this weary air around him?

She fought back her fear as she marched back to talk to the Briton. She had to be strong, for her patient.

_'It's nothing,' she thought over and over again. 'You can do this.'_

She took a deep breath, standing outside the waiting room doors. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes.

She pushed open door and stepped slowly into the room. Majority of the UN representatives were still in the room. The French representative was busy harassing the British one. The Japanese representative was squeezed uncomfortably on a couch between one the Italian representatives and the German representative.

As she made her way to their corner of the room, attention turned to her.

"How is he?"

"Can we see him now, _se il vous plait?"_

"Ve- does he forgive me?"

She ignored their questions and turned to the Briton. She felt her boiling emotions just lose control when she stared at him.

"Miss, is Alfred available to take vi-"

_Smack!_

She breathed heavily as the Briton lifted his hand to his face in shock. He stared at her in disbelief, emerald green eyes wide in alarm.

"What was that-"

"That was for Alfred you son of a bitch!" she spat. "You of all people should have known. You should have believed him."

"How did you know?" he asked still in shock.

"I heard Mathew and Alfred talking," she said still furious at the Briton.

The Briton seemed to fall apart in front of her first recoiling at her words, then running into the Frenchman's embrace.

She would have pitied him but there was no pity in her heart for him. Not after what happened. She couldn't forgive that.

XXXoooXXX

**AN: Okay, this is again un-betaed. I'm so sorry to my amazing beta, Midnight Alexis Thorn.I'm not happy with the chapter but I figured that it was okay enough to publish. Any who, it's snowing! I love show but I hate the cold! But I live down south, in Georgia (USA), and seldom snows so I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.**

**Thanks! R&R!**


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